


Somebody Contact The Med Bay. Or Animal Control.

by ookpik



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Bloodplay, M/M, Morning After, What Did I Do Last Night?, injuries, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6588490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ookpik/pseuds/ookpik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But of course, Jack’s the CEO and that means he does whatever he wants. Including fucking people on the floor in one of the labs, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody Contact The Med Bay. Or Animal Control.

**Author's Note:**

> Idea from a prompt generator

When Rhys comes to, it’s to the sound of hydraulic doors shutting loudly and an explosive laughter, all too familiar; all too plastic. The kind belonging to a certain CEO who Rhys swears probably never learned how to laugh like a real person. If that isn’t sign enough that this isn’t a regular morning, then the hard floor at his back and the crick in his neck are.

Sure enough, when he rolls to his side with a groan and cracks an eye open, it’s only to get assaulted by the sight of Handsome Jack grinning down at him. His hair is disheveled and there’s a blood smear extending from his mouth up across a cheekbone. It… kind of suits him. Rhys doesn’t want to think too hard about what that might say about him. His head hurts. More than usual.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Jack drawls. There’s still traces of laughter in his voice.

Rhys squints up at him, the steady pounding in his head made worse by the bright lights.

“W —what is…” He attempts to push himself up and the sudden lack of support for his neck has him quickly reconsidering with a groan. He settles for staying on the ground and trying to massage the tension out.

He doesn’t get much relief before his hand is knocked away and Jack’s larger palm settles in its place, calloused fingers digging in harder than Rhys would have liked. He says nothing, however, and lets Jack pamper him… if you can call that pampering. It’s still having the desired effect, and Rhys sighs as the sting eases. He could go for a full body massage right about now, but he doesn’t think Jack would be that generous.

He glances at Jack again out of the corner of his eye.

The man is sitting cross legged next to him, in nothing but his jeans and sneakers. His fly is open and Rhys really shouldn’t be surprised by the apparent lack of underwear. Even if he did have a pair on at some point, he definitely doesn’t anymore. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what went on between them. Not with the array of bites, bruises, and cuts on Jack’s upper body. He thinks there might be a wound in Jack’s thigh, blood seeping through the torn denim. A quick look a little further away has him convinced when he spots a bloodied shard of glass. The blood is still fresh. He wouldn’t put it past Jack to have slept with it in and pulled it out upon waking. Rhys hopes it wasn’t too deep.

Well… he’s probably gonna be ok. He seems fine. Ecstatic, even.

“You missed the good part, sweetcheeks! Should have seen the face on that guy! Hah! Ran with his tail between his legs.”

Ah. So that was what all the commotion was about. Poor guy, whoever he was. Probably got an eyeful.

“I don’t know, Jack,” he starts. His voice is hoarse. He can just imagine the nasty bruises he must have around his neck. “I wouldn’t exactly call this a common sight.”

He pushes the hand off his neck so he can look up enough to scan the room. His echo eye whirs to life and skims over several things in the room.

“Is this one of the R&D labs?”

Jack just shrugs. “Does it matter?”

Rhys throws him an accusatory look and tries to prop himself up fully. Upon inspection he discovers that yep, he is definitely butt naked. The only article of clothing on him are his socks, and they’re stained and stiff. Ugh… he liked that pair too…

He has more bruises on his body than he’d like to count, and it looks almost like a wild animal tore his right hip to shreds. Yikes, ok. He hopes that doesn’t scar too bad. 

His ass is sore. Scratch that, his entire pelvis is sore. Like it got crushed under a loader or something. He’s covered in dry blood and it feels gross. Is it his or is it Jack’s? It’s probably both. There's a clot on his upper lip where it no doubt split.

Jack isn’t faring any better. A quick vitals scan assures Rhys that they both suffered a good amount of blood loss, but are essentially fine. They might still want to seek medical attention.

His eyes catch on the illuminated stains under him. Oh. Ok. So that’s where it all went. It looks like a murder scene, handprints smeared onto the metal floor in blood.

Jack seems to notice the same thing because he lets out a long whistle. “Now  _ that _ is a pretty mess. If I didn’t know any better I’d assume a skag got loose in here.”

Rhys has to agree. There are various remnants of lab equipment and machinery littering the floor nearby, looking like they were swept off the table. Rhys has a strong suspicion that was their fault. Notably Jack’s. Probably for the sole purpose of pinning him down onto the surface. That plan seemed to have been abandoned in favor of the floor, though.

Oh god, why can’t he remember anything? How did he get into this situation?

“Jack… I think we broke stuff.” That seems to drag the attention of the man in question away from the murder scene (why did he say that. why did he say that) and to the other mess. He doesn’t grace it with more than a snort.

“Who cares, I own all of it.”

Rhys frowns at him. “Doesn’t mean we can just go breaking it. They probably needed that, Jack.”

“They can live without it for a day or two. More importantly…” Jack turned to him, a ravenous glint in his eye. He pulls Rhys to him by the back of his neck, bringing him inches from his own face. “ _ You _ can’t seem to be able to go that long without  _ me _ .”

Well that’s presumptuous. He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that but the tense silence has him blurting out the first thing on his mind.

“I don’t know how we got here.”

Jack stares at him blankly for a few seconds, before breaking into laughter again. Rhys marvels at how he tilts his head back, exposing the array of reds and purples on his throat. He shouldn’t find it beautiful. He should be horrified he’s capable of that. But he just wants to lean forward and press his lips to his Adam’s apple. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t need to give Jack the satisfaction of knowing he might have been right.

Jack’s words snap him out of his trance. “Honestly, me neither, babe.” Oh. Well. So Jack was just as confused as him. Jesus, how much did they drink? “Don’t regret it one bit, though. I mean, was it great or was it great?”

Rhys leans back a bit and throws him a puzzled look. “I just said I don’t remember.”

“But it  _ must _ have been, yeah?” And Rhys has to stop and think about it. Everything in his body hurts and he feels so, so dirty. Inside and out. It’s disgusting.

Oh but he  _ loves it _ . And taking a look at Jack’s wrecked state, he can’t help the grin that makes way onto his face.

“Judging what a work we’ve done of each other, I’d say yeah...” He locks eyes with Jack. “It was great.”

He doesn’t even have the time to think before Jack is pulling him forward and crushing their lips together. It’s vicious, all teeth and bruising pressure and Rhys can feel the cut in his lip reopening and it might just be a bit too deep. Jack’s tongue digs into it and it stings in the best way. His fingers twist into Jack’s hair and the man hisses into his mouth.

When they finally part, they’re both out of breath and Jack’s mouth looks worse than it did before. His probably isn’t any better. Jack loops an arm around his back, pressing him close, and chuckles. Rhys can feel the sound reverberating through his chest and, he hates to admit it, he eats it up. He could sit there forever, naked and bleeding, with Jack’s warmth to him, contrasting with the cold floor.

But he shouldn’t. They shouldn’t.

“We should head back before the rest of the department finds us here.”

But Jack isn’t listening. Of course he isn’t listening, instead choosing to bury his nose behind Rhys’ ear. Still, Rhys presses on.

“We should get that wound in your leg checked out too.”

Still he gets nothing but a hum in acknowledgement.

“Jack.”

“I heard ya, cupcake. I just don’t care.”

Rhys really didn’t know what he was expecting. The man does whatever he wants. And if what he wants is to stay here, then the very stars are going to align to make damn sure it happens.

But sometimes...

“You know, I don’t think that guy from earlier had the chance to pass on the message. It would be funnier to leave now, let them get worked up over who may or may not have died here.”

He feels Jack’s grin against his skin.

Yeah. Jack’s does whatever he wants, but that doesn’t mean Rhys doesn’t get a say in it too.


End file.
